


Trailer Trash

by Zed777



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Camille and Fisher are bros, Camille is the best character, Camille's friends are concerned, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Flashbacks, Gambling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Murder, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, This gets Angsty, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26097595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zed777/pseuds/Zed777
Summary: After a string of murders seemingly connected to a local casino, the latest victim is brought into the stitch lab. The victim, however, brings up a few memories that Camille would rather keep buried down, and the rest of the team begins to realize just how little they knew about their friend’s past.(Takes place sometime during season 2 after Theo is introduced)
Relationships: Camille Engelson & Cameron Goodkin, Camille Engelson & Linus Ahluwalia, Camille Engelson & Quincy Fisher, Kirsten Clark & Cameron Goodkin, Kirsten Clark & Camille Engelson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

“Four people, this past month, have been found dead with the exact same cause of death,” Maggie explained, showing photos from the crime scene on the T.V. in the conference room, “Slit throat and left in an alley. Bruising on the back of the head indicates that they were knocked out before they were killed. They were also all regulars at the Pacific Oasis Casino.”

“So… someone targeting gamblers?” Cameron asked.

“It would seem that way, yes. Now before I continue, the agency considered not using this victim but we decided that waiting for someone else to be murdered would be unethical; besides, we’ve dealt with murders close to home before.”

“Wait,” Linus interrupted, “‘close to home’? Do we know the guy?”

“One of us does.” Maggie sighed. “The victim’s name is Micheal Engelson.” She turned to Camille, whose eyes widened at the name, “Your father.” 

“My… We’re stitching into my father.” 

“Oh my God,” Kirsten looked at Camille, “I am so sorry”

“Are you okay?” Linus asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“We can’t seriously be considering this,” Cameron turned back to Maggie, “Stitching into people we knew is one thing, but someone’s parent?”

“Camille,” Maggie grimaced, her voice taking on a rare edge of sympathy, “you don’t have to be a part of this case if you don’t want to, but your father is the only victim whose memories haven’t expired yet and you have to understand that we have to catch this guy before someone else gets murdered.”

“No, yeah, I-I get it,” Camille said, taking a deep breath, “I’m fine, I wanna be a part of this case.”

“Are you sure?” Linus asked.

“Yeah, definitely.” Camille forced a smile, “Let’s catch ourselves a killer”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Camille watched as Kirsten stepped into the fish tank, doing everything in her power to keep her eyes off the man in the corpse cassette. She shouldn’t be bothered by this, she hadn’t seen her dad since she was sixteen and she’s always made sure that everything that happened in the trailer park stayed in the trailer park. Now the source of some of her worst memories has been dragged into the lab and is lying only a few yards away from her. She wasn’t upset about her father’s death, he may not have deserved to die, but as far as Camille was concerned he’s been dead to her for years. She never wanted to see him again, she never wanted anything from her past to surface and her sure as hell never wanted Kirstin to probe her father’s memories. What if she got pulled into one of his memories of her from the trailer park. Would she think differently about her after seeing the way Camille used to live? Would everyone? 

“Hey,” Fisher greeted, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Camille sighed, “Maggie told you we’re stitching into my dad.” 

“Look, if you ever need anyone to talk to or sparring lesson to vent any frustration; I’m here.”

“Save your sympathy tears, Fishy. We weren’t close.”

Fisher grimaced, knowing not to push but desperately wanting to. Before he could say anything else, Cameron started his Go/No Go checklist.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Kirsten zoned out for a bit in the fish tank, wondering what she was about to walk (or more accurately; stitch) into. Camille never talked much about her past. She knows she grew up in a trailer park, that her older brother is a jackass, and that her parents walked out on her, but any personal details or stories were always left out. What did she not want her friends to know?  _ Maybe I’m overreacting,  _ Kirsten thought,  _ If there was anything really bad, she would talk to me about it. Right? _

“Com check 1-2-1-2. You hear me, stretch?”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“Alright, so we’re looking for someone he gambled with. Maybe someone won a lot of money from… or some he cheated a lot of money from…”

“Got it.”

“Okay, inducing stitch neuro sync on my mark. 3...2...1... Mark.”

Just like that, Kirsten’s consciousness was thrown from the fish tank to a bar. 

_ The room seemed to be moving and the ground felt like it was shifting under her feet. _

“I think he’s drunk,” she said into the com.

“Is he in the casino?”

“No. No, it's just a bar. There’s hardly anyone else here, and judging by where the sun is outside, it's around noon.”

_ Micheal was sitting at the bar, drinking bourbon. He just put his phone down and turned to the bartender. _

_ ‘You wouldn’t believe the phone call I just got.’ Micheal growled out, ‘Apparently, my son just got arrested for bringing weed to school. Now I’ve gotta go pick the kid up from the station, but I can’t very well drive to a police station drunk, now can I?’  _

“Camille, sounds like your brother hasn’t changed since high school.”

“Ha, tell me something I don’t know.”

_ ‘Guess he’ll just have to wait, won’t he, Ricky?’ Micheal slurred, lifting his glass to take another drink. The bartender, Ricky, took the glass from his hand. _

_ ‘Well, then I guess you better start sobering up, Mike. I’ll get you a water.’ _

_ ‘Aw, you don’t have to do that just yet. Some time in a holding cell will serve that kid right. He was supposed to drive his sister home today too.’ he accepted the water with a nod, ‘Hopefully she at least has the sense to walk home and not wait for me to go get her, the last thing I need is a call from the school about that too.’ _

_ ‘Don’t be too hard on them, Mikey. They’re only kids.’ Ricky checked his watch. ‘My lunch break is in fifteen minutes. You sober up and then I’ll pick Millie up from school while you get Theo. Sound good?’ _

_ Micheal groaned and slumped forward on the bar countertop.  _

“It seems like Micheal and the bartender are close. He just offered to pick Camille up from school. And he called her ‘Millie’”

“That's Richard Douglas,” Camille explained despite flinching at the mention of her old nickname, “He was a family friend. He lived in the same lot as us. We spent almost every Saturday at his place for poker night. He was always there for Theo and I, even after our parents walked out on us.”

“Hold on, I’m getting pulled to a different memory now.”  
_The near-empty bar faded into a noisy casino with crowds of people and bright lights coming from the slot machines. Micheal was seated around a blackjack table, still drunk, but not nearly as much as the previous memory._

“I’m at the casino now. He’s playing blackjack.”

_ Kirsten took a closer look at the table. _

“Wow, he’s either cheating or he has the best luck in LA.”

“Definitely the first one,” Camille snorted.

_ The guy sitting next to him must have thought the same thing because after mumbling something to the guy sitting next to him, they both stood up to leave. Micheal didn’t stay much longer anyway. He finished his beer and stood up to go to the bar. Kirsten blinked and they were both there.  _

_ “Well I’ll be damned,” Mike grinned, drumming his hand on the counter, “Ricky D! Some folks told me you worked here but I had to see it for myself.” _

_Ricky smiled back, “Hey Mike, still throwing your money away on this stuff, I see.”_ _  
__“Old habits die hard, Rick. Besides, not much else to do after the old wife took off.”_

_ “You and Barbra separated?” _

_ “Took off a few months ago. After I lost both our retirement savings in one night,” Micheal laughed drunkenly.” _

_ Ricky laughed a bit too as he poured Micheal another drink. Meanwhile, Kirsten looked around the Casino and caught sight of the two guys from the blackjack table. They talking, by the slot machines, sending a side glance at Mike every once in a while.  _

“Ricky works here. Micheal and him are talking at the bar. There are two guys who caught on to Mike cheating and now it looks like they’re talking about him.”

“Did you get their names?”

  
“No, but there’s something else-”

_ Before Kirstin could finish she got pulled to another memory, an older one. She was in the kitchen of a trailer. Micheal looked pissed. A woman was standing behind Mike, who Kirsten assumed was Barbra. Micheal was yelling at a young brown-haired girl standing in front of him. She looked around thirteen or fourteen. Kirsten suddenly felt like she wasn’t supposed to be seeing this. _

“Cameron, this is an early memory. I need to be closer to his time of death.”

“Linus is mapping out the death moment, for now, your getting pulled along the memory hotspots but whatever your seeing could still be linked to his death in some way so what's going on?”

_ ‘You stole from a church collection basket!?!” Micheal shouted, ‘What the hell were you thinking?! You’re lucky the Pastor isn’t pressing charges but I still have to pay back all the money you stole, you little shit!’ _

_ The girl in front of him flinched but held her ground. ‘You and mom were gone for days! There wasn’t any food left! What was I supposed to do?’ _

_ ‘Don’t you dare argue with me! That money is coming out of your pockets! You hear me?’ _

_ ‘Dad! That's-’  _

_ ‘What did I just say!?’ Micheal backhanded the girl- Camile- across the face, knocking her to the ground. She cried out as her side hit the kitchen counter on the way down. ‘Don’t you DARE argue with me!’ He emphasized his point by bringing a foot down on her foot, bending her ankle at an awkward angle, making her cry out again. A young blonde boy, Theo- Kirstin assumed, stood, watching, from his semi-opened bedroom door. He clearly wasn’t comfortable with the scene playing out in front of him but wasn’t willing to get in the middle of it.  _

“Talk to me Kirsten, what do you see?”

“Not- Not much, he’s drunk again. His wife is here this time though. She seems checked out.”  _ Technically, nothing she said was a lie. Barbra definitely looked bored, despite what was going on around her and judging by the beer bottles scattered on the table, he wasn’t exactly sober in this memory either. _

“Alright, Linus has the death memory mapped out so I’m going to move you as close as I can to the time of his murder.

_ Kirsten’s vision went black, then Micheal slowly began opening his eyes. He was in an alley, behind a dumpster. Micheal was obviously disoriented from being knocked out, but Kirsten could still make out some scuffling and a few curses as someone approaches Micheal from behind. Before Linus’s voice cut through the coms. _

“Death memory in three…”

_ Whoever it was grabbed him from behind. _

“two…”

_ A life was lifted to his throat. _

“One!”

_ She bounced just as Micheal’s throat was slit. _

Kirsten gasped as she sat up in the fish tank. Maggie, Cameron, and Camille were already standing in front of it. Maggie was the first one to speak.

“Did you see who killed him?” 

“No, sorry. He was really disoriented when he woke up in the alley. I couldn’t make out who it was. But there were some seedy guys at the Casino and there’s something else too. Micheal’s wife apparently left him a few months ago. He gambled away their savings.”

“You think she was mad enough to kill him?” Cameron asked.

“She might have been, but that wouldn’t explain the other murders.”

“Still,” Maggie said, “We should follow any lead we have. We’ll bring Barbra Engelson in for questioning and later tonight, we’ll go to the casino to ask a few questions and see if you can recognize the two men from the stitch.”

“You sure you're okay?” Fisher asked Camille, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, of course. Like I said, I haven’t seen him in years. This is basically the same thing as solving the murder of a stranger.”

That seemed to reassure Fisher at least a little bit, but all Kirsten could see when she looked at Camille was the image of that scared girl lying on the floor of a trailer, clutching her ribs in pain. She was definitely going to have a talk with her roommate later. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team brings in Mrs. Engelson for questioning and Kirsten has a talk with her roommate that stirs up some bad memories.

Maggie, Camille, and Linus watched through the one-sided mirror of the interrogation room as Kirsten and Fisher introduced themselves to Barbra Engelson. Camille expected her mother to look different from what she remembered, but she wasn’t expecting to barely recognize her at all. She looked older, the worry lines on her forehead were more pronounced and despite the cheap hair dye, it was obvious her hair had started graying. However; in spite of all that, Camille though her mother had never looked better. From what she could remember, her mom was practically a walking corpse back at the trailer park, she hardly left the living room or the bedroom aside from going to work bagging groceries at the local market. Her eyes had always been glazed over from the anti-depressants she always seemed to need a refill for too fast. Now, she looked… alive. As petty as it may be, Camille couldn’t bring herself to feel happy for her. It was great that she was doing better, but whenever Camille looked at her, all she saw was the woman who stood a few feet away, doing nothing as her father would scream himself into drunken (often violent) hysterics at the slightest mistake their two kids would make. 

“What is this about?” Barbra asked.

“We just want to ask you a few questions about your husband, Micheal Engelson,” Fisher replied.

“ _ Ex-husband _ ,” Barbra corrected, “Look, whatever he’s done, I can’t help you. I haven’t seen him in almost a year.”

“Ms. Engelson, I’m sorry, but Micheal was found murdered yesterday,” Kirsten told her.

“Oh- oh my god, that's awful. What can I do to help?”  
“Well, you can start by telling us your whereabouts Friday morning between 1 and 2 AM.”

Barbra raised an eyebrow at Fisher. “Sleeping,” she deadpanned. 

“Can anyone confirm that?” Kirsten asked.

“My boyfriend, Eric Moore. He was with me the whole night.”

“Was your boyfriend okay with the fact that you and Micheal never officially got a divorce.”

Barbra grimaced, “Eric understood that Micheal and I had financial issues. We couldn’t afford a divorce lawyer. And Micheal… wasn’t exactly the best at saving money.”  
“Yeah, we know about your ex-husband’s gambling problem,” Kirsten said, “We also know that he lost both of your retirement savings to his addiction.”

Barbra breathed out a humorless chuckle, “You know about that, huh? Yeah, that was the last straw for me. I left his sorry ass after that and a month later, I met Eric. Sure, I was pissed at him for what he did, but in a way, I’m happy he did it. Losing my retirement savings was the wake-up call I needed to finally turn my life around.”

“You two still had a life insurance policy out on each other,” Fisher said. “His death means you get back a lot of the money he stole from you.”

“You think I killed Micheal… for an  _ insurance payout _ ? I mean, the guy was awful, but I would never kill anyone.”

“If you didn’t, then who would.”

“I don’t know, he wasn’t exactly a well-liked man. Someone else he stole money from? We have two kids; Theo and Camille… I haven’t seen them in years… but my son, Theo, he’s always been the violent type. And Micheal wasn’t exactly the best father to them.”

“And what about you?” Kirsten asked, remembering the scene from Micheal’s memories, where Barbra just stood behind him doing nothing. “What kind of a mother were you to them?”

Barbra gave a sad smile, “Absent… at best.” she shook her head, “I- I left my past behind. I have so many regrets from back then, I just wanted to start over. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I would never kill Micheal. And I definitely wouldn’t want his insurance money. I don’t want anything from him anymore.”

Fisher nodded, standing up, “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Engelson. We’ll check in with Eric Moore to confirm your alibi. Don’t leave town.” They left the interrogation room to speak with the others. 

“Where’s Camille?” Kirsten asked, noticing her friend’s absence.

“She left as soon as Barbra mentioned her and Theo,” Linus answered.

“Is she okay?”

“ _ She’s  _ fine,” Camille answered, stepping back into the room, holding a mug. “I just needed a coffee.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Maggie asked, “you can step back from the case at any time if this gets to be too much.”

“Relax Maggie, I’m good. In fact, I’m looking  _ forward  _ to going with you guys to the casino later. I could use a drink considering the way everyone’s been babying me lately.”

Maggie didn’t look very convinced, “Alright, well Fisher will go confirm Ms. Engelson’s alibi and everyone else will meet me at the casino at ten.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Camille threw her keys on the dining room table as she and Kirsten walked through the front door. “Okay, I need a shower and a beer. Oh, what do you think I should wear. What do people usually wear to casinos?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Ah, you’re right, what am I thinking. You tried to wear a suit to a rave. Guess I’ll just wing it,” she said pulling a beer out of the fridge.

“Actually, Camille, can we talk for a minute?” Kirsten asked, wondering how to start this conversation.

“Uh oh, I know that tone. Am I gonna need another beer?” Camille joked.

“Camille, this is serious. I wanted to talk to you about something I saw during the stitch; from when you were a kid.”  
Camille felt her stomach drop but she kept up the act anyway, “Oh come on. I know I didn’t exactly have a state of the art trailer but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“No, it's not about that. I… I saw you as a kid. And your dad was shouting… something about stealing from a church-”

“Okay, look,” Camille said, interrupting Kirsten, “I know that was really fucked up-”

_ Your father hitting you like that,  _ Kirsten thought but didn’t interrupt,  _ yeah, that was really fucked up. _

“-but you gotta let me explain-”

_ Explain why your dad hit you? _

“-My parents had been gone for days and we didn’t have any food in the house so- so yeah, I stole money from the collection bin in the church. And I felt awful about it and I paid them back but-”

“Hold on,” Kirsten did interrupt this time, “You don’t need to explain why you took that money. That's not what I wanted to talk about.” Camille stopped talking but she didn’t look any less anxious. “I wanted to talk about what your dad did to you when he found out…”

“Ah, uh… right,  _ that. _ ” Camille fidgeted with the bottle in her hand nervously, “How much did you see?”

“I saw him hit you… hard. You fell into the counter. Then he twisted your ankle by stomping on your foot… Camille,” Kirsten put her hand on her roommate’s shoulder to get her to meet her eyes again. “Did that kind of thing happen often?”

“What? No,” Camille laughed anxiously, brushing Kirsten’s hand off her shoulder, “That was a one-time thing. I swear. After being gone for days, he came home drunk and pissed and when he got a call from the pastor, it just… set him off. It only happened that once though. I promise.” She smiled, “Now, I’m gonna go have a shower and I’m bringing my beer with me.”

Camille turned around and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Kirsten sighed and watched her friend disappear through the door. She knew Camille wasn’t being honest with her but she clearly wasn’t willing to talk about it. Besides, Camille has always wanted to keep her past in the past. Maybe she really had moved on. Maybe it really isn’t bothering her anymore…

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Camille stared at her reflection in the partially steamed up bathroom mirror, her hand absentmindedly tracing the faded scar on her lower ribcage. She remembers that day well.  _ Her mom and dad finally came home and her father immediately went to the fridge and downed a beer. Four beers later, they got a phone call from the pastor. He told her father she stole fifty dollars from the collection basket and asked him to repay what she stole. He acted nice on the phone but the second he hung up he had thrown his beer bottle against the wall; beer and glass covering the already stained kitchen carpet. He shouted her name so loud that the whole trailer shook, and Camille found out later it also called the neighbor to call 911. She remembers standing in front of her father as he screamed his face red. She could barely understand what he was saying from how badly he was slurring his words but once he actually managed to pronounce the words ‘collection basket’ correctly, she felt her heart sink. He  _ **_knew_ ** . _ Despite her fear, she managed to stand her ground and defend herself. Too bad it didn’t work out in her favor. She wasn’t surprised when it got physical, but she didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Or for him to hit her as hard as he did. The corner of the counter managed to leave a nasty gash in her side. She had been so focused on whether or not one of her ribs had cracked that she didn’t notice her father bringing his foot down until she felt the searing pain in her right foot. She walked with a limp for weeks after that; a detail many kids at her school took advantage of. _

The scar on her side has faded a lot since then, but it's still noticeable. Camille never thought about it until now though.  _ Why did Kirsten have to bring it up? I was perfectly happy living in denial.  _ Camille shook her head and did her best to push the thoughts to the back of her mind. She reached for her beer but when she brought the bottle towards her face, all she could think about was the scent of alcohol coming off her father that night. She dropped the bottle before she could think twice about it. Thankfully it landed on the rug, so it didn’t break, but the contents of it spilled onto the tile floor. She picked up the bottle with a groan and threw it in the trash. She pushed the bathmat over the puddle of beer on the floor, deciding it was a problem for future Camille to deal with, or if she was lucky; future Kirsten. Avoiding looking in the mirror (and getting dragged down  _ that  _ rabbit hole again) she pulled off the rest of her clothes and stepped into the shower. Mentally preparing herself for having to question people about her father later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team goes to the casino to ask a few questions and Fisher begins to connect a few dots.

“Alright,” Maggie started, once everyone had met up in the parking lot of the casino. “Camille and Fisher will come with me to talk to the staff including Richard Douglas. Kirsten and Cameron, you two try to find the two men from the stitch who noticed Micheal cheating. Don’t cause a scene and  _ do not  _ piss anybody off.” She finished, staring directly at Camille. 

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Because now that Kirsten’s Temporal Dysplasia was cured, you’re the one with the least impulse control.” Maggie turned to lead the team inside before Camille had a chance to respond.

“Congratulations,” Fisher said, patting her on the shoulder.

“Gee, thanks.”

The five of them entered the Casino and split up. Cameron and Kirsten headed over to the blackjack tables and Maggie, Camille, and Fisher approached the bar. A young bartender greeted them. “What can I get you guys?”

Maggie flashed her badge in response, “I’m Agent Maggie Baptiste with the NSA. This is Agent Engelson and Detective Fisher. We’d like to ask you some questions about a series of murders whose victims have all been regulars here.”

“I-uh, wow, okay. I don’t know how much I can help, but I’ll tell you what I can.”

Maggie pulled out pictures of the five victims. “Do any of the victims stand out to you? Did any of them have common enemies or were they known cheaters?”

“Uh, yeah, I recognize all of them. They were here pretty often.” He studied the pictures for a second before his eyes zeroed in on the first two victims, “These two,” he said pointing at the photos, “were not great guys This guy-” he gestured to the first victim, “was notoriously short-tempered. We kicked him out a few times for getting violent with the dealers and other players but he always managed to bribe his way back in. And the other guy was banned a couple of weeks ago for harassing some of the waitresses. But the rest of them were fine, like this guy, Tom,” he said gesturing to the fourth victim, “great guy, he was super friendly. He knew the name of everyone who worked here and would strike up a conversation with just about anyone. Aside from the first two, all these guys were perfectly normal dudes, aside from the gambling problems.”

“They all had a gambling problem?” Fisher asked.

“Look around you, man,” the bartender replied, “just about everyone here has a gambling problem, and the ones that don’t- well, they will soon” 

Maggie nodded, “One more question. Is Richard Douglas in today?”

“No, not tonight. He’ll be in tomorrow though if you’re looking for him.” He glanced over his shoulder at some more people that arrived at the bar. “Uh, if you don’t have any more questions, I’ve gotta get back to work.”

“Hold it right there, handsome,” Camille said, stopping him, “I’ll have a gin & tonic.” she winked. The bartender smiled, “sure thing” and he turned to make her drink. Maggie leveled Camille with an unimpressed glare. 

“What? You said no pissing people off. You never said ‘no drinking.’”

The bartender passed her the drink and she threw him another flirtatious smile, “Thanks hot stuff.” He smiled again and went to attend the other people at the bar. When she turned around again Fisher and Maggie were both looking at her, exasperated. 

“Okay, cool it with the judgment, you two. It’s one drink” 

It was not one drink.

An hour later and Camille had lost track of what drink number she was on. Maggie was growing progressively more frustrated at the same rate Fisher was growing concerned. The snapping point was when Camille spilled her drink on someone by the slot machines and things nearly got physical before Maggie stepped in. Maggie had grabbed Camille’s arm and dragged towards the exit, Fisher trailing close behind.

“Alright, that’s it. Fisher, take her home. I’ll check up on Kirsten and Cameron. And you,” She said turning to Camille, “If I see this level of unprofessionalism again, you’re off this case. Am I understood?”

Had Camille been a little less drunk, she would have noticed the underlying concern on Maggie’s face, but instead, she just responded with a mock salute and a sarcastic “yes, ma’am” 

Maggie sighed and nodded at Fisher before walking back into the casino.

“Alright, tough guy, let’s get you home.” He said, throwing an arm over Camille’s shoulders to lead her to the car. 

“Ugh, but we’ve only got beer there, and I  _ cannot  _ drink that right now.” She whined.

Fisher opened the car door for her, “Not that I think you should be having any alcohol right now- but why not?”

“I-” Camille froze, not wanting to talk about the flashback the smell of beer triggered earlier today, “nevermind.”

Fisher sighed as he got into the driver’s seat conflicted about whether or not to push her right now. On one hand, she might be more likely to open up when she’s drunk, but on the other hand, taking advantage of that felt wrong.” Fisher’s conscience won out and he decided to bring it up later when she was a little more sober.” Instead, the car ride consisted of Camille trying to change the radio station every five minutes and grumbling about his shitty taste in music when he would slap her hand away and say “my car, my rules.” 

Eventually, they made it back to Kirsten and Camille’s house and Fisher helped her inside. As soon as they got through the door, Camille headed straight for her room to “get out of these uncomfortable-ass clothes.” Fisher took the time to check his phone to see if Eric Moore had gotten back to him yet. He hadn’t answered the phone earlier so Fisher left a message with his name and number. Still no response. He put his phone back into his pocket when he heard some commotion in the kitchen. He found Camille standing in front of the fridge, staring at the case of beers on the bottom shelf, presumably contemplating taking one. Eventually, she sighed and closed the door, Fisher let out a breath of relief that he wouldn’t have to wrestle a bottle out of her hand, but his relief quickly faded when he noticed she was walking towards the wine rack instead. 

“Nope, not tonight,” he said, pulling her away from the wine and leading her to the living room, ignoring her slurred whining. Once they were both settled on the couch, Fisher was ready to start the conversation he’s been dreading the whole car ride over

“Maybe you should step down from the case.”

Camille waved him off, “‘M fine, fishy.”

“No, you're definitely not”

“Yes, I d-def… def-. Yes, I am.” Camille stared back at him defiantly.

_ Even when she’s drunk she’s the most stubborn person I know.  _ Fisher sighed. “Will you at least consider taking the day off tomorrow.  _ Please. _ ”

“...Fine” Camille relented, seemingly a bit less drunk now, “but only cause I don’t feel like dealing with a hangover and Maggie’s nagging on the same day.”

Fisher chuckled a bit despite himself. “You know if this case ever gets to be too much, you can always talk to me about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.  _ Friends share things with each other.  _ Seems to be a message everyone’s been trying to hammer into my head lately.”

“...speaking of which-”

“Oh no,” Camille groaned, “not you too.”

“I just wanted to ask about what you said in the car earlier.”

“...I said something in the car earlier?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I barely remember how we got inside the house.”

Fisher sighed (he’s been doing that a lot tonight), she clearly wasn’t in the best state to talk about this but he knew she was even more likely to deflect any of his questions tomorrow. 

“You said you couldn’t drink beer. Why?”

Camille when rigid. “I-” Her eyes darted to the ground and there was the slight crease between her brows indicating she was attempting to come up with a believable lie. It clearly didn’t work because all that came out was a mumbled “I don’t know” as her shoulders slumped.

“You don’t know?”

Camille just shrugged and curled in on herself more. Fisher honestly wasn’t sure what he was expecting her answer to be, but her reaction to his question was only making him more concerned. Aversion to beer around the same time memories of her estranged father are brought back up combined with her guarded response to being questioned about it definitely raises red flags in his head, but he doesn’t want to connect those dots just yet.

“Camille?” He asked, snapping her out of whatever world she had gotten lost in. “Your father drank a lot, didn’t he?” Fisher remembered what Kirsten had said while she was in the stitch; Micheal had been drunk at a bar in the middle of the day while his kids were in school.

Camille hesitated for a moment, before slowly nodding, keeping her eyes trained on her hands, which were playing with a string hanging off the bottom of her shorts. 

“What was he like when he was drunk?”

When he didn’t get a reply, Fisher put his hand on Camille’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture, She flinched slightly at the touch but ultimately relaxed a bit. 

“Camille?” Fisher prompted. “Would he ever hit you or your brother”

“No,” she answered quickly but the tension that returned to her shoulders in tenfold said otherwise. 

“If he did… you can always talk to me about it. I’m here for you.”

Camille shot up from the couch, brushing his hand off her shoulder. “There’s nothing to talk about ‘cause he never hit us. Alright?” She took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over her face. “It's been a long day. I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” She said, turning and heading for her bedroom. 

“Kirsten should be back later tonight,” he called after her, “you sure you’ll be alright ‘till then?”

“I’ll be fine, Fishy. See ya at work.”

“Not tomorrow though, right?”

“Apparently not,” she said right before closing the bedroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter took so long to get out. School's been a bitch lately.


End file.
